


My Dinner with Feilong

by sunflower1343



Series: Therapy [11]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/pseuds/sunflower1343
Summary: Two friends catch up over dinner.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favorite movies when I was younger was My Dinner with Andre, which is simply a conversation between two friends. That movie inspired me to write this fic. Written February, 2006, for Feilong's birthday.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~

The last patient for the day was gone. 

_Thank God._

He really was trying to be more caring with people, but patients who just wanted to hear that their problems were everyone else's fault and not theirs to fix drove him up the wall. Where do you start with someone like that? 

Perhaps he should call in a consultant.

He smiled. That's something he never would have done a year ago, admitting that he needed help. But now he knew better. Everyone needs a little help now and then.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his thick brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He needed a haircut too. He wasn't going to look like a shaggy dog going out clubbing this weekend. That was a release he sorely needed and he wanted to look _good_.

The files he wanted to review that evening still lay on his desk, and he'd just started packing his briefcase when a knock at the door interrupted. 

_Shit. What now?_ He looked up, annoyed.

He was unprepared for the man who first stepped into his office and then paused, staring at him. "Sensei. If you had greeted me that first day with such a look, I probably would have just shot you and been done with it."

He never failed to be struck by the man's sheer beauty. Happiness bubbled up inside. He saw his friend all too rarely these days.

"Feilong, I'm sorry. My last patient was an awful one. I half expected him to come back and demand a refund. Please, come in."

Feilong simply leaned against the door, tall, lithe, sex poured into a suit. "If you want I can arrange an accident... I'm very expensive, but for you I'd do it gratis."

Hamada laughed and shook his head. "No thank you. Besides, you aren't serious, I know you're not." He stopped and peered at Feilong. "You _are_ serious. You know, I should be shocked by such things, but I'm not. I suppose that makes me a horrible person. But again, no thank you. I prefer to solve this on my own."

Feilong shrugged. "It's up to you, of course. I was hoping you would be free for dinner. We haven't seen each other much lately. I find I miss talking to you."

Hamada felt a warm glow at the words. "I've missed you too. I'd love to have dinner. What did you have in mind?"

Feilong looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Would you like Chinese?"

Hamada felt a blush rise up. "Dammit Feilong. Actually, I would, but I appear to be on a restricted diet. One strictly enforced by threat of death. So why don't we both try something neutral, like, say, French?"

Feilong smiled. The room lit. "If you wish. I know of a good place not far from here."

 

\--

 

Hamada looked about the room they had been seated in. The private room. Very old style European, from the white linen tablecloths to the French antique china to the polished wait staff. They either knew Feilong or had instantly recognized him for what he was, quality. He had walked past the waiting customers and had requested, though it wasn't a request, a private dining room and received it instantly.

Hamada was no stranger to money. His family was well-off with his parents both being doctors, and his maternal grandparents in America were on the wealthier side of Boston's social hierarchy. But this was beyond his experience.

He unfolded the snow white linen napkin into his lap, then opened the menu. And laughed. It was in French.

Feilong looked up from his menu.

"Feilong, I don't speak French. Do you have any idea what this says? I think I recognize lobster and scallops, but don't want them if they're covered in cow brains."

Feilong's lips twitched. "Would you like me to order for both of us? It would be like a date then, sensei. I promise, no cow brains."

"You speak French too?"

"A little. Enough to understand menus and wines, and polite chatter."

"You never fail to amaze me."

"Sensei, I really need to spend more time with you. With all the abuse I get at home, I could use an adoring fan to stroke it all away."

Hamada picked up his crystal water glass and took a gulp. "Do you have to use me in the same sentence with the word stroke?"

He looked over Feilong's body, wondering if he could manage to push the man down onto the table.

Feilong smiled. "Only in your dreams, sensei."

"And must you call me that? My name is Makoto. I would be honored if you used it, Feilong."

Feilong studied him over the top of the menu. "But I call so few people "master"...."

Hamada rolled his eyes. "It's just a natural state for you, flirtation, isn't it?"

Feilong's eyes twinkled. "You bring out the worst in me."

The waiter stepped into the room, and their conversation ceased for the moment.

Feilong began to speak to the waiter in French, asking questions, making choices. Hamada tried listening for something that sounded like brains, but soon gave up. Instead he listened to the melodic flow as Feilong spoke the romantic language perfectly, as he did everything else. The waiter was replaced by the wine steward, and the process repeated, then they were left in peace.

"It sounded like you ordered a lot of food."

"The portions here are small, but the courses are many. I think you'll like what I chose."

The wine steward was back. This time to serve them a white wine of some sort that Feilong evidently approved. He didn't catch the name. It was light and airy on his tongue though. 

"This is good, very good. Just what I needed." 

Feilong was sitting back in his chair, one hand on the stem of his wineglass, and smiling. Hamada's heart turned over. If only he could see this every night.

"You look so happy, Feilong. I take it that means things are going well at home?"

Feilong's eyes rose to meet his. There was a glow in them that made his heart ache, because it wasn't there for him. But he couldn't be anything but happy for his former patient.

"I never thought such happiness was for me, sensei. And it's due in large part to you."

Hamada waved him off. "Nonsense. I pointed you in the right direction, but you and Akihito were –"

"And Asami."

_So it was like that now?_ "And Asami. You were all responsible for healing each other."

Hamada didn't want to pry, but well, he wouldn't be a psychiatrist if he let that stop him. "Things are better between the two of you then? You and Asami?"

Feilong smiled. "They're very good. He's changed. We all have, but his change has been the most difficult I think. Akihito and I clearly had wounds that needed to heal. But Asami, he had to rebuild himself from the inside out. Trusting us the whole while. His courage always amazes me. But there's nothing he won't do for Akihito."

Hamada sipped his wine. "And for you, I think?"

Feilong blushed. "Perhaps. Recently, we've grown closer. We talk now. About things other than Akihito and work." He looked at his glass and turned the stem in his fingers, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Has he opened up to you about his past?" He wasn't sure if he was crossing the line, but he assumed Feilong would threaten to kill him if he did.

"Yes."

The waiter interrupted. 

_Dammit._

"Dentelle de Saint Pierre à la mangue, Monsieur." 

Some sort of sashimi and mango was set in front of him.

"Et pour vous, Monsieur, escabèche d'écrevisses à la tomate & aubergine grillée."

He peered at Feilong's plate. Shrimp and tomato and eggplant? So far so good. No brains.

Feilong was amused. "Is everything alright, sensei? Do you want to switch?"

Hamada blushed. "I was just curious. This looks delicious."

And it was. The fish melted on his tongue, the mango providing the perfect balance of texture and sweet-tartness. Conversation was momentarily forgotten.

Course after course followed. Fois-gras and black truffle pesto. Grilled blue lobster with herb butter. All accompanied by wines that matched perfectly. And talk. Of books, of art, of places. Of things only Feilong would talk about.

Hamada took a bite of the lamb and citrus curry that was in front of him. The pungent spices exploded into his mouth, the tart lemon within chasing the heat away, leaving him feeling he'd been hit and run by the dish. He took a drink of cold water and decided to talk more, eat less for this particular course. 

Feilong had left a conversational thread dangling and he picked it up. "You've been to Boston? Really?"

"Of course. I was expected to work around the world. In Boston I killed a politician who was disturbing some of the crime families there. We did it as a personal favor for them."

Hamada paused and stared for a moment, wine glass halfway to his mouth. "I don’t believe you. What politician?"

Feilong studied him a moment. Then took a drink. Then set his glass back down, still watching him. He shifted, a little uneasy. "Congressmen M—."

Hamada nearly spit his drink across the table. "That was YOU? Wait a minute. I remember the details. Before the car crashed, he was seen driving off with a tall woman. Described as exceedingly beautiful and exotic." He froze.

Feilong smirked. "I looked quite nice in that dress."

Hamada wanted to bang his head against the table. "Why? Why did you have to give me that picture to dwell on?" He did bang his head once for good measure, then lifted it. "Did you wear women's lingerie too?"

"Of course. I wouldn't want my cover to be blown if the wind lifted my skirt." 

Hamada whimpered. "You were put on this earth simply to torment me, weren't you?"

Feilong laughed, delighted. Hamada was delighted at the sound as well.

He clamped down harder on his heart.

 

**

The waiter withdrew once again, leaving them plates of warm cheese with sliced grilled pears and walnuts.

Hamada was beginning to slouch in his chair, very relaxed after the food and wine, and good conversation. He picked up a piece of warm pear with his fingers and nibbled. It was sweet, luscious almost. The juice ran down his hand and he licked it clean. Then he realized to his horror what he'd done and wiped his his hands quickly on the napkin. Feilong was going on about one of the latest New York Times bestsellers but had paused to watch this new development with laughter in his eyes.

Hamada didn't like the book. "Personally, I think the book is hogwash. He's a clever man for putting something like that together, mixing fact and fiction, and changing the facts slightly where they don't suit his game. But he set out to con the people, and to see how many he could fool with it. It's irresponsible. I have patients coming in and quoting it to me, as if it were a bible."

Feilong laughed. "That's exactly what it is, isn't it? Bibles for every religion are put together in just such ways, mixing and stretching fact, all to convince the masses to their way of thinking. He is simply using what he taught by the pros."

"Feilong, that's blasphemous," Hamada teased.

Feilong spoke dryly. "Sensei. My whole life is blasphemous by their standards."

"But not by your own?"

"Of course not. Why would I act against my own morals?"

Hamada was curious. "What are your morals based on anyway?"

Feilong blinked. "Well, I suppose a few fundamental needs. To care for those for whom I am responsible. To care for those who care for me. To never break my word. To act with honor. To carry on the business and build for the day when Tao takes over, should he wish to. And for those things to occur, I do whatever it takes. It's quite simple."

"Where do I lie within that group?"

Feilong's eyelashes fluttered. "Where do you wish to lie, sensei?"

"Stop that. You know what I mean."

"Of course I do. And I thought it was an obvious answer. Among those who care for me. That is the correct place, is it not, Makoto?" Feilong's voice had gentled, and his eyes held a softness that made Hamada turn his head away. To hear his name...

He let himself speak the words. "Yes, that's the correct place."

Fingers brushed his cheek, and touched his heart. 

Feilong spoke softly. "I'm sorry. I'll stop teasing. It's no longer fun when it becomes cruel to you, and I think it has, hasn't it?"

He wanted to crawl onto that lap and hide there. But it was never an option. He took a deep breath. He wouldn't look at Feilong but he would speak.

"It's something I have to get used to. I want this kind of time with you. I treasure being your friend. And I have to get used to the fact that that is all I can have. I don't ever want you to think you can't spend time with me because of this."

He turned his head back to look into Feilong's eyes, finding the understanding he'd hoped for. "It's not as if there was ever a chance. Once that... thing with Asami happened, I knew I'd never touch another patient. And by the time you were no longer my patient..." 

He shrugged. "I'm sure there are other men out there who are also incredibly beautiful, witty, intelligent, oh, and gay..."

"Sexy. Don't forget that. It's an important one." Feilong's eyes twinkled.

Hamada snorted and shook his head. "Important to Asami maybe. The most important to me, I think, is your capacity for love. To love and be loved. Of you three, most people would think of Akihito with those words. But you and I know that they apply to you as well."

Feilong was quiet for a moment. "I'll always treasure your friendship Makoto. Always."

Hamada closed his eyes. It was enough. It had to be.

He opened them. "So, where's dessert?"

 

\--

 

He was surprised he had room left for dessert, but he ate every bite of the honeycomb pastry with berries, and even ate half of Feilong's broiled white peaches with mint, Feilong only half-heartedly slapping his hand away.

As they sipped their espresso Hamada leaned back in the chair and sighed. He caught Feilong watching him with a pleased expression. "What has you so happy?"

"You. You were so tense earlier. One good meal later and you're ready to melt like that wicked witch."

Hamada laughed. "I never figured you for a fan of The Wizard of Oz."

"I've always read a lot of fantasy. It was an escape for me. I once fancied myself an elven warrior who'd fallen from Middle Earth to this one by accident. It's easy to imagine a lot of the men I've dealt with as trolls."

"Asami?"

"I'm proud of you. You waited until we were done eating to bring him up again. I would have bet you'd succumb sooner."

Hamada blushed. "I'm not that easy to read, am I?"

Feilong pursed his lips, thinking. "Yes."

He laughed. "Come on, give me a hint. I was your therapist. And I was his for at least a half hour."

"A physical therapist."

Hamada rolled his eyes. "And I probably should have paid him for the lesson I learned. Don't tease. Give. What's going on with him? He seemed a lot looser when I was over for dinner."

Feilong gave in. "He is. Even more so now. At least around us. I hadn't realized all that was bottled up inside." He played with the last slice of peach on his plate. "He finally spoke with me last week. About his past." He daintily cut the peach in half with his fork, then lifted it to his lips, pausing to ask, "Are you aware of it?"

Hamada watched the peach disappear inside that mouth, then shook it off. "His past? No. Akihito would never speak to me about it, and Asami sure wouldn't." 

"Ah, then I cannot either. But let it suffice to say that it wasn't an easy one. Perhaps more difficult than ours. I'm concerned about his keeping it inside, but less so since he's told two of us now. I don’t think he'll tell another, except perhaps Tao someday."

That surprised him. "Tao? Really?"

Feilong nodded. He set his fork down. "Tao's having a good effect on him I hadn't expected. They're becoming friends of a sort." Feilong smiled at some private thought. "He doesn't know how to act with a child, so he treats Tao as an equal, an adult. Tao loves it, because he's always had this little adult moneymaking streak in him that had no outlet, so he gets to play grownup with someone. But at the same time, Tao's childishness always comes through and surprises the hell out of Asami. Tao tries to get him to play games, go to the park, watch sports, you name it. And sometimes, on occasion, Asami gives in and goes."

Hamada tried to imagine Asami playing games and failed. _Well, except for maybe strip poker and Monopoly._

Feilong looked up from his plate. "Asami never had the chance to play as a child. I think Tao's letting him do that now. Slowly teaching him how to. And, I have the funny suspicion that Tao knows exactly what he's doing. It's incredibly sweet to see the two of them together bickering."

The corner of his mouth crooked up. "Of course, don't ever tell them I said that, or I'll have to kill you."

"Of course I won't tell. Don't look at me like that. Who would I tell except Akihito? No one else would believe that you used the words "sweet" and Asami in the same sentence."

Feilong laughed. "He really is. He just has no idea what to do with it. But the way he tries, for Akihito... Sometimes it breaks my heart when I realize why he has no idea how to do things most people take for granted." 

"You love him."

Feilong's face softened, the emotion clearly shining from his eyes. "Yes. And am loved, though he doesn't say it in so many words. What I saw in him all those years ago was real, Makoto. It was real, and I can let myself love him now with no regrets."

"I'm so very glad you're happy, Feilong." And was surprised to realize he meant it. Even though he wasn't a part of it. 

Wasn't this what he'd worked so hard for? He remembered Feilong as he had first come into the office, arrogant, elegant, cold. Becoming unsure and frightened as he faced his problems, but always facing them. His amazing courage and strength, especially in daring to trust Hamada, then Akihito, pulled him through it all. Though without the love of Akihito and generosity of Asami, things might not have ended so well. They were the legs to a tripod, those three, each balancing out the other two.

Feilong focused on him and snorted softly. "You're looking very pleased with yourself. Taking all the credit?"

He smiled, and looked into his coffee. "Just the opposite, actually. The three of you have done what I wouldn't have been able to do alone. It's the fact that all of us worked together to achieve it that pleases me."

"You started it all though. You were the catalyst."

Hamada grinned. "Then you should really treat me with much more respect. No more red leather outfits when I come to dinner. And more dinners like this."

Feilong's smile widened. "I enjoyed this tonight. Honestly, it's so nice to have someone to share simple pleasures with, like this meal."

Hamada choked on the remains of his espresso. "This is a simple pleasure? What do you call a noodle bowl?"

"Appalling."

Hamada's eyes narrowed. "Next time I'm taking you to eat the best noodle bowl in Tokyo, and you're going to take that back."

An eyebrow raised. "What would you like to wager?"

Hamada smiled. 

 

\--

 

The check was paid, Hamada blanching at the number of 10,000¥ notes Feilong put down to cover it. Feilong, amused, told Hamada he'd have to put out now. Hamada promptly offered to pay for the love hotel. Feilong turned his nose up and turned Hamada down. "Honestly, Makoto, we need to work on your refinement."

Hamada's car was back at the office, but he was in no shape to drive, so he and Feilong got in the limo to ride to his apartment. They sat next to each other, quiet, as the car pulled into traffic.

Hamada laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He'd had just enough to drink to let the question slip out. "If they hadn't come that day. To the office. If they hadn't made that offer. Do you think we might have...?"

He felt Feilong shift in his seat. "I've thought about it, and I don't know, to be honest. I would have been a mess, and still would have been under your care, which would have meant that it still couldn't happen. "

"But could it have? After?"

Feilong's voice was soft. "Why do you want to torture yourself, Makoto, with thoughts of what can't be? I learned the hard way that having a taste of what you can't have makes it much harder to move on. That night I kissed Akihito, when I thought it was my last and only chance, it ripped my heart out. If I couldn't have him, it would have been better if I hadn't done that at all. For days all I could think about was that kiss. And that's why I won't kiss you now, though I would like to, and you would like me to."

His chest ached. He kept his eyes closed, keeping tears trapped. He sighed. "I know that. I know it with my head, but my heart doesn't listen. But I know that it's past time to move on."

He opened his eyes and sat forward, elbows on his thighs. "I wouldn't ask for a kiss, nor try one. I know better. If I'm ever to spend time with you again, there has to be a line drawn, with that on the other side of it."

Feilong nodded. "It's a wise man who can apply his wisdom to himself."

Hamada squinted up at Feilong. "What the hell was that? An ancient Chinese proverb?"

Feilong blushed. "It's actually from this Star Wars game Akihito keeps playing. Some little green thing says it, only he doesn't use very good English."

Hamada started laughing. "Yoda? You're quoting Yoda? What's next? Star Trek?"

Feilong turned an even brighter red. "I've found that there is some wisdom to be found in Star Trek." He tossed his head. "People should try to keep an open mind."

Hamada couldn't stop laughing. "A geek, you're turning into a geek."

Feilong scowled at him. "I'll have you know I've killed men for less." 

But when Hamada glanced at him, the corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile. _You phony. You just wanted to make me laugh._

 

\--

 

The limo stopped near the building entrance, and the door opened to let him out.

"Feilong, thank you. I haven't had such a nice evening since, well, since I can remember."

He paused as he was to step out, looking down at his shoes. "I think it will be okay. I think maybe I just had to say something, so the "possible but improbable" moved over to the "impossible" column. It might hurt for a little while, but it's easiest this way. Thank you for understanding."

Feilong shook his head. "After what you did for me? How could I do any less for you? Besides. I've been there too. I understand better than you can imagine."

Feilong leaned forward, his hair slipping forward from his shoulders, and he took Hamada's hand. "Makoto. You're a wonderful man. There are a lot of men around who only dream of having someone like you to love. You'll find one soon, and this will retreat into the past like a dream." Feilong squeezed his hand. "But this won't. This, our friendship, is real, and it's forever."

Hamada rubbed his thumb across the hand holding his, across the fading scars, remembering the day they were put there. "I honestly don't think I'd ever feel comfortable with it otherwise. Things like these scars, and other not so visible ones, will always remind me that you were my patient. I want to keep that openness between us. Remember? Secrets between lovers, but not a doctor and patient."

Feilong nodded. "And friends fall somewhere in between."

Hamada smiled and let Feilong's hand fall away, then stepped back from the car and bowed politely. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

Feilong looked at him, his eyes holding a soft warmth that Hamada knew very few ever saw. "Thank _you_ Makoto. For everything." 

Feilong sat back in the seat and brushed his hair back. "And don't forget to call me about these noodles you wish me to eat. If little green men spout wisdom, perhaps a psychiatrist can produce a decent noodle bowl."

Hamada laughed, and at that Feilong smiled then waved his hand at his driver, who closed the door and drove them off.

Hamada stood watching as the car disappeared.

_I wasn't entirely honest there, at the end, but I think you knew, didn't you? I do love you Feilong, but for the sake of our friendship, I'll put it away. I know that there'd be no happiness for either of us in exploring it. And thank you, my friend, for understanding that, and understanding me._

He brushed the hair out of his eyes. He had to get it cut. It was beginning to make his eyes water. 

Besides, he thought as he took a deep breath, he had to look nice when he went out this weekend looking for the second-most sexy, beautiful, intelligent, witty, gay man in Tokyo. He glanced at his reflection in the glass door of the building, and smirked. _Or maybe I should say the third-most._

He stopped and stared at himself in horror. "Oh my God. That sounded just like Asami."

He laughed, vowing to himself to adopt a more Takaba-like attitude, and headed for his apartment. He needed to get upstairs and start searching. He had a bet with his friend and he wasn't about to lose. He was going to find the best damned noodle bowl in town.

 

 

~end~


End file.
